


Ten Years Late

by Twelvefootmountaintroll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, M/M, PWP, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twelvefootmountaintroll/pseuds/Twelvefootmountaintroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At their ten year school reunion, Draco and Blaise decide to address the fact that they've never hooked up. Harry joins in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Years Late

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net as joemoe93.

“Why the hell did I let Astoria convince me to attend this disaster, again? Anyone?”

 

“To remind you that you could have it much worse, I imagine,” Blaise responded, peering into his champagne flute. “Look at Abbot. Not that she’s deteriorated _much_ , mind.”

 

“When is that damned woman going to accept that I’m not marrying her,” Draco grumbled, not really looking for an answer. He sighed. Ten years and she still asked him when they were going to tie the knot at least once a week—look, there she was, flirting with Finnigan, Thomas next to him looking amused. Why were they even having a ten year reunion party for their graduation from Hogwarts?

 

Ah, yes. Draco’s lip curled. “It seems Potter still knows how to be a first-rate prick,” he said to Blaise, nodding at the star of the party who was surrounded by no fewer than eight doe-eyed classmates in the center of the Great Hall.

 

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Come off it. Potter’s prick was the only reason you ever paid him any mind.”

 

Draco sneered and took a haughty sip of champagne, but the years had imbued his razor-sharp personality with a sardonic edge. He suspected Blaise was right, but he’d never admit to it.

 

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” he said instead. He downed the rest of his glass and plucked a new one from a floating tray.

 

“Cheers,” Blaise said with a grin.

 

Several glasses later—he’d lost track at some point, but he knew his limit—Draco was sitting near the edge of the room very resolutely _not_ pouting. Instead, he was sulking and staring at Harry with apparent contempt. He told himself he was only doing it to recapture the old school spirit; Astoria breezed by and, in a stage whisper, told him to stop being such an immature sod. But he intended on getting just this side of “too drunk to Apparate home” before calling it quits—though, by the way he was hovering, it seemed Blaise didn’t trust his judgement.

 

Draco watched Astoria hanging herself on Nott like a strip of high-society wallpaper and knew he wasn’t going to be able to count on her company at home. Whatever. He hadn’t expected she’d convinced him to take him to the reunion just for a couple of drinks and a laugh. Still, it was a bit unnerving, the way she seemed to be methodically sleeping with all the people in his year at Hogwarts.

 

“I’ve just had a brilliant idea,” Draco said, turning to Blaise.

 

He laughed and tweaked Draco’s nose. “I very much doubt that.”

 

“I’m not that drunk,” Draco said defensively. “Well, more of a question, really. Why didn’t you and I ever hook up?”

 

For the second time of the evening, Blaise rolled his eyes. “Typical drunk Draco, talking about the only thing on his mind: Sex.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“Of course you are. Well, A) you were too sissy to admit you liked cock in school—” (“My father would have killed me,” Draco muttered) “—and B) you and Astoria got together not too long after that and you’ve been together since.”

 

“We’re in an open relationship, everyone knows that.” Draco was feeling irritable. “What, am I not pretty enough for you? We can’t all be the son of a famously beautiful witch.”

 

“But sleeping with your best friend? I’m not sure even Astoria would stand for that.”

 

Draco nodded at Astoria and Theodore. Blaise smiled. They weren’t best friends, but Nott had been a marginal member of Draco and Blaise’s posse back in the day. Clearly, social ties were irrelevant. “Okay, point taken.”

 

On an impulse, Draco lunged forward and tried to plant a kiss on Blaise’s lips, but the other man, less drunk than he, had faster reflexes and avoided him.

 

“What are you doing, Draco?” Blaise asked, amused.

 

“I want to kiss youuuuu,” Draco whined. Okay, maybe he didn’t know his drinking limit as well as he thought.

 

Blaise opened his mouth to speak, but Draco interrupted. “Ugh, save it. I really don’t need your ‘sober consent’ talk again right now.” He paused before adding for good measure, “Fun hater.”

 

_Now_ Draco was pouting.

 

“Are you actually serious?” Blaise asked incredulously.

 

Draco didn’t stop pouting to mumble, “Said I was, didn’t I.”

 

Blaise paused. Then: “I think they were handing out Sobering Solutions at the doors to people who were leaving.”

 

Draco smirked. Blaise, reading his mind, huffed. “You are insufferable, you know? Absolutely insufferable. When I die they’re going to send you to Azkaban for torturing me my whole life.”

 

“I guess I’m pretty enough after all,” Draco could help but quip. Then, eyeing Astoria one last time, he extended his arm toward Blaise. “Help me up.”

 

He didn’t wobble a single time as he made his way over to the doors of the Great Hall. “See, I’m not that drunk. I can walk perfectly fine.”

 

“That’s because I’m holding you up.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You’re an annoying, self-centered twat, you know that?” Blaise murmured into his ear. Draco shivered from the warm breath on his neck.

 

“Just your type, then,” Draco said, too loudly. The wizard stationed at the door scowled at him.

 

“You’ll be wanting a Sobering Solution, then, I suppose?”

 

“The things I do for a kiss,” Draco sighed with a hint of the melodramatic.

 

“And you?”

 

“I’m okay,” Blaise responded.

 

Draco chugged the entire flask-sized mixture down in one go as they walked into the Entrance Hall. The potion’s effects took a few minutes to take hold, but the increased burden on his bladder was immediate.

 

“I need to piss,” he declared.

 

“Then I suggest you find a toilet immediately,” Blaise said sagely.

 

“Won’t you, um, help me get there?” Draco asked with a mischievous smile.

 

“Are you sure that Solution is working?” Blaise asked.

 

Indeed it was. It felt like a large mass of cotton stuffing was being slowly but surely drawn out of his ear. He had a few more minutes yet before he was completely sober, though. It really was a shame that the Solution wasn’t going to prevent his inevitable hangover, too.

 

“Come on,” Draco said, tugging at Blaise’s hand.

 

After a furtive glance around for observers, they quickly navigated to the nearest bathroom. Blaise stepped in close to Draco, but the latter pushed him away and went to stand in front of a toilet.

 

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding,” Blaise said as Draco’s pitstop neared the minute-thirty mark. “How many glasses of champagne did you have?”

 

“Fuck, that feels good,” Draco said contentedly. “No idea. More than six. Oh, and some of that Firewhiskey pumpkin juice punch.”

 

“Do you always let your arse hang out like that when you piss?”

 

“Sod off.”

 

“If you wish, but I was under the impression I was in here with you for a reason...”

 

Draco finally zipped up and turned around. His eyes were now bright and clear, but they retained the glimmer from the emotional high his successful drunken flirting had lent him. He stepped forward.

 

“Hm. I should choose my words more carefully, shouldn’t I?”

 

“Better yet—”

 

“—stop talking?”

 

It was quite good, as far as first kisses go. Well, not exactly first—the first had been spur-of-the-moment, after Blaise had announced a highly prized promotion in his position at Gringotts. That one didn’t count. This one, however, definitely counted. Blaise’s hands gripped Draco’s hips (Draco had long suspected him of being an arse man), Draco’s held the back of Blaise’s head and neck, and their lips were fitted together just so, not too much squashing and not too much distance. Draco tasted the remnants of a spicy, cinnamon liquor when Blaise’s lips parted.

 

When their mouths parted, Draco opened his eyes in annoyance and disappointment. He stared up at the ever-so-slightly taller man, trying to read his emotions in his amber eyes and enjoying the erotic feeling of another body pressed into his, expanding and contracting with each breath.

 

“What?” Draco whispered.

 

“This feels about ten years late, that’s all,” Blaise responded.

 

“Then we have some catching-up to do.”

 

“Tell me, Mr Malfoy,” Blaise said, pulling on Draco’s hips, “just how long have you had a hard-on for me, anyway?”

 

“Too long,” Draco answered. He pushed Blaise back until he hit the sink. He suddenly wished Blaise had worn a tie so he could pull on it, but he had opted for a half-buttoned silk shirt of a wine red. As he moved in for another kiss, Draco slid his hand across Blaise’s chest and under his shirt. The skin was warm and inviting under his palm.

 

Just as Draco was beginning to feel the first stirrings of warmth in his groin, the door to the bathroom banged open. Draco peered out of the corner of his eye, but the man who walked in made a beeline for the toilet and appeared not to see the couple at the sink. He looked up at Blaise, who looked back at him. Draco felt Blaise’s lips tighten in a smile and he suppressed the urge to giggle. He heard the sound of a zipper behind him, followed shortly by splashing and a sigh of relief.

 

Draco pressed in closer and gently rolled Blaise’s nipple between his finger and thumb. Blaise responded by moving his hands lower and digging his fingers into Draco’s bum. This time he did giggle.

 

He heard the person behind him make a startled noise; the splashing sounds changed quality, and then the person cursed. Draco opened his eyes and looked over Blaise’s shoulder into the mirror. Behind him he saw—what?

 

“Potter?” Draco twisted his head around to look at Harry, who was still standing in front of the toilet. “Did you just piss on the floor?”

 

“What the hell are you two doing in here?” Harry demanded angrily. He kept his back turned, but the tips of his ears were bright red.

 

“What does it look like?”

 

“No wonder your wife goes home with other men,” Harry said. “She’s just following your lead.”

 

“She’s not my wife!” Draco exclaimed. “And it was her idea to come here just so she could find someone to bed for the night.”

 

“You two,” Blaise said loudly, cutting off their argument, “are so fucking boring. I swear to god you have the same argument over and over again with different words. If you don’t shut up right now I’m leaving.”

 

But Draco couldn’t help himself. “At least I have someone who wants to be my wife. Last time I checked, Ginevra was shacking up with anyone who wasn’t you.”

 

Harry flushed the toilet and turned around. His fingers were clenched; Draco wondered if he was considering going for his wand. He took a step forward.

 

“You don’t know shit about Ginny and me. Fuck you.”

 

Draco turned around to face Harry fully. He kept his fingers loose and ready to seize his wand in its sheath at his hip. He adopted his best Malfoy sneer and looked down his nose at Harry. “I see you haven’t learned a thing about insults since school. You always were an egocentric, indolent twit.”

 

“Come on, Draco, really?” Blaise sighed. He put his hand on Draco’s shoulder, but it was quickly shrugged off.

 

“Wow, you know some big words now. Good for you,” Harry said. “How are your dueling skills?”

 

Under totally fair conditions, it would be difficult to say who was quicker: Harry or Draco. But Draco had the advantage—his Sobering Solution had already finished clearing away the effects of the alcohol. Harry’s was still working. So when they drew their wands, Draco had his up to bear a fraction of a second sooner.

 

Unfortunately for the two of them, Blaise was already ready and waiting, and with a quick Disarming Charm, he snagged both of their wands.

 

“Blaise!” Draco whined. Harry looked warily at them.

 

“I said you were boring. So now you’re going to entertain me to make up for it,” Blaise said, a wicked smile spreading across his handsome features. Draco was suddenly reminded that they had been put in Slytherin together for a reason. “Now kiss each other, and don’t be boring.”

 

Draco looked disgusted; Harry looked concerned.

 

“Blaise, I am not kissing him just so you can get your rocks off. Give me my wand.”

 

Blaise shrugged. “Okay, but you’re gonna have to get it from the bottom of the Lake unless you kiss Harry first.”

 

“Stop being a berk and give me my fucking wand,” Draco snapped.

 

Harry spoke up suddenly. “What if I kiss you instead?”

 

Draco turned his head slowly to look at Harry. He seemed to be talking to Blaise, who had a surprised expression. Then Blaise smirked and glanced over at Draco.

 

“Yeah, all right then.”

 

Draco could have punched both of them.

 

Harry moved toward Blaise, never breaking eye contact. Then, placing his hands on either side of Blaise’s waist, he leaned up with his lips parted slightly. The other man tilted his head down and their lips met. Draco was enthralled. If he were the type of person to use the term “man sandwich..." well, he’d be the filling any day.

 

As the kiss stretched on, Draco heard Blaise make a scolding noise. He was confused until he saw Harry’s hands reaching in vain for the wands Blaise held clutched behind his back.

 

“Done kissing me so soon?” Blaise asked, opening his eyes.

 

Draco didn’t give Harry a chance to respond. “Good, because it’s my turn.” 

 

He wrapped his arm around Blaise’s waist, gave him a steady gaze, and turned to contemplate Harry for a moment before going in for a kiss. Harry seemed surprised at first, but his mouth lost its stiffness and he ran his tongue along Draco’s lower lip. Blaise chose this moment to run his fingers through Draco’s hair, tugging on the ends of the blond strands and easing him away from Harry.

 

“So,” Blaise said in a low voice. Draco opened his eyes, but Harry kept his closed for a moment. When he opened them, they were dark behind his ever-present glasses. He looked as though he were about to speak, or maybe raise his hand, but he kept still, and after a moment he released the breath he had been holding.

 

“You can have your wand back and go home,” Blaise continued, “or... you can stick around for a while.”

 

“I think...” Harry paused, looked over at Blaise. “I think I’ll stay.”

 

Only then did he move, raising his hand to trace Draco’s jaw with his knuckles; Draco saw him slip his hand under Blaise’s shirt and press it into his lower back. Draco met his friend’s eyes and they shared an amused look.

 

“What?” Harry asked.

 

Draco went to speak, but Blaise was quicker. “Nothing, really. It’s just that Draco’s mouth has been watering for your cock since sixth year.”

 

_Not true. It was fifth year_ , Draco thought. Harry grinned. Draco appeared unruffled.

 

“Speaking of which...” he said, and seized Harry’s wrist. He let the knuckles retrace their path before he opened his mouth and enveloped the first two fingers. He focused all his concentration on them—their roughened undersides telling him Harry still flew his broomstick regularly, the nails trimmed neat and Auror-regulation length, their warmth almost as enticing as he imagined his mouth would be for Harry. On the periphery of his vision, he saw Harry lean forward and engage Blaise in another kiss.

 

The knot of tension had returned to Draco’s stomach, low and warm, like seeing stars. He took his arm from around Blaise’s waist so he could tug at Harry’s trousers with both hands. As his fingers worked at the buttons, he continued to suck on the fingers in his mouth, using his tongue to roll them around, press into them, and draw them in further. He heard Harry murmur something to Blaise, but he was so engrossed, he didn’t catch the words; Blaise only raised an eyebrow at him when he looked up.

 

Finally, he got the buttons undone. He brushed his hand along Harry’s underpants only long enough to feel his hardness through the thin cotton before moving on to Blaise’s trousers. Harry gave a frustrated groan. Fortunately, Blaise’s lone button and zipper proved much easier to handle and Draco had them undone in seconds. And then Blaise’s cock was in his hand, separated only by a layer of smooth silk.

 

Draco took Harry’s fingers out of his mouth. “Shove over, Potter. It’s my turn.”

 

The other two pulled away from their kiss. Harry’s cheeks were flushed, unfairly making him even more attractive as he said, “Seemed to me like you were enjoying yourself just fine, Malfoy.”

 

“Lucky me, to have Potter and Malfoy squabbling over me,” Blaise said dryly.

 

“Shush,” Draco said, quieting him with a kiss. He slid his hands under Blaise’s shirt and returned to his earlier attentions. Blaise’s fingers threaded into his hair, cupping either side of his face. Draco wondered if he could taste Harry’s fingers on his lips.

 

When Blaise gasped unexpected into Draco’s mouth, the latter looked down to see Harry’s arm disappearing into Blaise’s trousers. It was only a moment later Harry’s other hand found Draco’s crotch and began palming him through his trousers. He rocked his hips gently into the motion.

 

Draco took his hands away from Blaise’s chest to jerk at his shirt, which was, to his frustration, still buttoned up. In true Malfoy style, he decided what he wanted and went full-steam ahead; taking either side of the shirt in his hands, he tugged in opposite directions. Surprisingly, none of the buttons popped off.

 

“How the hell—?”

 

“A good tailor,” Blaise said.

 

Draco didn’t know the technical name of the (very expensive) Charm that kept buttons sewed on, even under extreme pressure, but it was known colloquially as Romeo’s Seamstress.

 

Draco had never liked that Blaise was almost as wealthy as he—or maybe even wealthier, never mind that it wasn’t old money—but he could appreciate a man who spent good money on his clothes. In one smooth motion, he leaned forward and dragged his tongue from Blaise’s adam’s apple to his ear, took the lobe between his teeth, and began to pull on it lightly. Blaise chuckled and his chest rumbled under Draco’s hands.

 

Harry’s hand on Draco moved away; he felt disappointed for a moment before he felt it return with the other to unbuckle his belt. Then Harry dropped down to kneel on the floor. He unzipped Draco’s trousers, tugged his cock free of his underwear, and promptly shifted over to liberating Blaise’s erection, as if to thumb his nose at Draco for his earlier teasing.

 

Draco shifted his attention to sucking on Blaise’s lower lip as the latter man’s hands wandered lower on him, one grasping his waist and the other his cock. The hand began to move in enticingly slow and rhythmic back-and-forth motions. Draco gripped the arm that was in turn gripping him, feeling Blaise’s toned muscles flexing under the smooth skin and resisting the urge to control his gentle tugging—it felt more erotic to let the other man be in control.

 

When Blaise began laying a trail of kisses down Draco’s jaw, Draco glanced down at Harry to see him teasing Blaise’s cock with the tip of his tongue. He felt a pang of jealousy. Blaise was supposed to be _his_. But he lost his trail of thought when Blaise settled for a spot under his jaw and started nipping at the skin.

 

For a minute, they stayed in this configuration: Draco thrusting into Blaise’s hand, who in turn was rolling his hips in a futile effort to push into Harry’s mouth. Draco was sure he was going to have a hickey on his neck in the morning and the thought of casually displaying it for Astoria to see pleased him. He was quite content to stay where he was—that is, until he felt Harry’s hand on his prick, replacing Blaise’s.

 

Draco had never seen the point of being in a three-way if he wasn’t going to be in the middle, and he was damned if he was going to let Harry fucking Potter usurp that position. He put one hand on the back of Blaise’s head and with the other took a fistful of Harry’s dark locks, pulling him to his feet; they were both under his control, now.

 

He ran his tongue along Blaise’s jaw before turning to Harry and taking his upper lip between his teeth. Something about the breathless, wordless atmosphere was enrapturing. Blaise moved—to put his mouth back on Draco’s neck?—and Draco blinked and moved away. He had seized the other two’s attentions for a reason.

 

He released Harry’s lip, dropped lightly to his knees, and for a second time reached into Harry’s trousers. He pushed aside the unbuttoned flaps of his trousers and began caressing his hard-on through his pants before turning his attention to Blaise. His cock appeared to be at full mast and the head was shiny, wet with Harry’s spit. Draco grasped it with his free hand, eased Blaise’s hips closer with some light pressure, and took it into his mouth. He could taste Harry’s mouth on top of the light saltiness of skin and smell a crisp laundering agent mingled with Blaise’s familiar, comforting scent.

 

As Blaise’s cock slid across Draco’s lips and tongue further into his mouth, the latter shifted his hand down, framing the base with its thatch of dark hair under his fingers and the softer skin of the sac under his thumb. Blaise gave an appreciative moan and one of his hands buried itself in Draco’s hair.

 

Harry, apparently becoming impatient with waiting for Draco, took matters into his own hands: pulling his underwear down, he freed his erection and pressed forward with his hips until he found Draco’s hand again.

 

Draco pulled his head back. The two men standing before him, peering down at him, throbbing in his hands, could have been a study in contrast. Harry’s skin was pale to the point of translucency, lending his flushed cheeks and tumescent cock a reddish tint; Blaise’s was velvety dark with dark, golden undertones, like he was backlit by candlelight. Harry was verging on short, and the years had filled out his previously gangly form; Blaise was tall and toned muscle from head to foot with a musculature that made him smooth and graceful in motion. Even in personality, Harry was passionate and spontaneous where Blaise was calculating and reserved. The two of them stared down at Draco, expectant and demanding.

 

Right now, Draco’s most pressing issue was which of them to suck off first.

 

He suspected Harry would only grow more impatient if he didn’t receive some attention. On a whim, Draco kissed the tip of his prick where the foreskin had rolled back, laughing when he came away with a string of precum linking it to his lip.

 

“Get going, Malfoy,” Harry said, breaking the relative silence.

 

“Agreed,” Blaise said shortly.

 

He was only too happy to oblige. Harry’s cock tasted essentially the same as Blaise’s, but it felt different on his tongue. His scent, too was different—somehow warm and definitely arousing, but without the familiar notes of Blaise’s scent. Draco wished he had more hands with which to massage Harry’s balls, squeeze his arse, tease his pubes, and still have one spare to stroke Blaise’s cock. He settled for only the last part as his first hand continued to play with the other man’s balls.

 

After a particularly dextrous swirl of Draco’s tongue, Harry put his hand on a sink for support and groaned. Draco smirked. This was more satisfying than humiliating or Cursing him ever was.

 

It didn’t take long before Harry was thrusting feebly into Draco’s mouth—they were more like twitches than thrusts, really—and his breathing had deepened a noticeable amount. When the breaths became shaky, as well, Draco knew he was close.

 

“Fuck,” Harry said, right on cue, “gonna come—”

 

Draco hummed his acquiescence, or perhaps his approval. With the flat of his tongue pressed to the underside of Harry’s cock, he felt his ejaculation the moment it started. Harry gave another groan, one hand clutching the sink and the other Draco’s hair, and rolled his hips forward until he was on his tiptoes. His cum was salty in the back of Draco’s mouth.

 

Harry took a few more shaky breaths before relinquishing his grip on the blond hair. Draco slid the flagging erection out of his mouth with a wet _pop_.

 

“Was it all right for you?” Draco asked, lightly mocking. Harry leaned back against the sink and laughed.

 

Draco turned to Blaise, running his tongue up the length of his cock before asking, “Ready?”

 

Blaise narrowed his eyes. “I know exactly how to make you squirm, Draco, don’t ever forget that.”

 

He was suddenly reminded of both that Blaise and Astoria were good friends and that Blaise personally knew several of the men Draco had fucked in the past. There was little doubt in Draco’s mind that Blaise did know his kinks.

 

“Don’t test me,” Blaise said. His voice took on a steely edge that make Draco shiver.

 

He ran his tongue along Blaise’s cock again. He could still taste Harry’s cum and he wondered if Blaise tasted differently. Well—he’d soon find out, Draco thought as he dragged his lips across the head of his cock.

 

“I’m not gonna last very long,” Blaise said as Draco teased his frenulum with the tip of his tongue.

 

As though to test him, Draco finally took Blaise’s cock in his mouth. After only a minute of bobbing and sucking, Draco heard Blaise’s breath grow shuddering. His hard-on felt harder yet in Draco’s mouth.

 

Blaise’s breath caught in his throat. His hips twitched forward, forcing his prick to the very back of Draco’s mouth. Draco winced, though not altogether resentfully, as Blaise’s fists found his hair. His cum didn’t taste so different from Harry’s, Draco noted.

 

Only as Blaise’s body relaxed did Draco turn his attention to himself, allowing the other man’s cock to slide out of his mouth and taking himself in hand. His groin ached and begged for release. It took him a scant few seconds to stroke himself to orgasm. His cum spurted over his fingers, narrowly missing Blaise’s leather shoes.

 

The waves of pleasure rolled through his body for a few seconds before slowly receding. He stood, kissed Blaise on the mouth, and began licking the jizz off his fingers.

 

Harry was still leaning against the sink, though he had tucked his prick back into his underwear. He appeared slightly uncomfortable when Draco looked at him.

 

“Right, well...” Harry said. “Thanks. See you around.”

 

He glanced down at the tile before striding off to the door, buttoning his pants as he went. Draco raised his eyebrow at Blaise.

 

“You think you’ll be ready for round two by the time we get back to your place?”

 

“What do you think?”


End file.
